Game of Silence
by ShyLikeThat
Summary: "You stay quiet for a day... and I do anything you want." — Izaya, Namie


**Title:** Game of Silence

Summary: You stay quiet for a day... and I do anything you want. — Izaya, Namie

**Disclaimer:** Durarara! is owned by Ryohgo Narita.

* * *

-X-

"Izaya-san." She starts one day, and he turns around from examining the sleeping Dullahan's face, floating and encased in its glass.

He notices that she's using _that _voice; calm and polite instead of cold and pointedly ignoring. The one she uses whenever she sees him in front of his computer screen, idle and bored, before she quietly asks if he could find out where her brother's location was now.

He hears that "_Izaya-san._" at least five times everyday, hears the faraway "Seiji, where are you? Be careful, okay?" at least seventeen times everyday, and thinks that he should be able to discern that tone of voice from a multitude of others, believes that he is as familiarized with it as the back of his own hand.

At first, he thought her concern for her brother to be cute and charming. Like watching a little girl playing with her dolls. But then it grew old too fast.

He sometimes marvels at how great her obsession was with her younger sibling, and doesn't find it shocking that her brother wouldn't want to be with his sister constantly. If that was how she acted towards him from 10 miles away, just _imagine_ how she'd act towards him if he were 10 feet away.

It would be stifling. Not to mention _aggravating_.

He grumbles a bit in response, too lazy to get up from his comfortable position at the couch to his desk, and too lazy to type in the name 'Seiji Yagiri' in his keyboard for the hundredth time. It almost made him feel like he was the one stalking the boy, and not his sister. He even bet the letters were already worn down from the constant abuse.

He opens his mouth, about to suggest something childish like "I'll find your stinking brother if you carry me over to my desk, Namie-san" or "Uggh. Ask me again in an hour." though she cuts him off, surprisingly.

"Izaya-san— you like to play games, right?" She starts nonchalantly, but its something _fresh_ and _brilliant _and _new _and totally unprecedented that her playful tone is actually enough to catch him off guard, making his head twist over to her direction almost immediately, pleasantly surprised.

He thinks that she's never used that voice before. Not for anyone. Not even for her brother, and for a short second, he thinks that he's slightly more special.

"What of it?" He raises a brow, wearing a crooked smile.

Namie turns around to face him, but her lips remain intact, smiling and purposely stalling, he knows, because he's made a _game _out of deliberately holding out on people. But it works, his interest is peaked and it makes him smile even more because he never even imagined a situation like this to transpire from the monotonous day, much less her actually regard him with an expression that's not either pointedly telling him to shut up or trying to erase his existence from her vision, but that she actually smiled, as if she was hiding something clever.

When she opens her mouth, he finds himself sitting up just a little bit straighter.

But then she snaps it shut again, making him blink, and gives him a teasing grin.

"On a second thought, maybe I'll tell you another time." _When you're not so eager_. She says after a while, still smiling, and he can read the underlying meaning behind her words as if she actually said them out loud. She grabs her coat off the couch just where he had his back leaning onto, limbs sprawled out in front of him.

He watches her slide her arms inside her coat with slight contempt, preparing to leave for the night and no doubt thinking as if she had just gotten the upper-hand. Izaya scoffs at this, giving the woman an irritated stare before sighing in disgruntlement.

"Whatever." He grumbles again, like a child, and sinks further down against the couch, interest and curiosity dissipating almost instantly. He plays with the sleeping Dullahan's container, clacking his lithe fingers against the glass when he feels a hand patting the head of his hair.

He grunts in response, and looks at her through the corners of his eyes.

"Isn't your birthday's almost coming?" She asks suddenly, out of nowhere.

"Depends. Is that a hint to your game?" He answers back with a question, eyes flickering towards her figure. She merely smiles at the question, and turns around without another word, crossing the room to reach the door.

A soft 'thud' resounded around the apartment, signaling the woman's exit. He stares at his door for a few seconds, and doesn't fight the grin that breaks out of his lips a moment later.

-X-

He doesn't forget about the game, even after a few weeks passed.

Though the woman in question had reverted back into her typical, chronic, I-hate-my-employer ways, the exchange that happened between them almost becoming like a distant hallucination, possibly conjured from his bored-as-hell mind as his eyes drifted towards his assistant. Her movements throughout the office was the only animate thing in the room.

It sits at the back of his mind, and the only reason he doesn't let go of the thought is because he can't help but remember the tiniest of details, however seemingly unimportant or unnecessary, because he believes that _all things are somehow connected_, and therefore, everything he learns is significant. He's an information broker, for Pete's sake. He takes what he can get.

He pesters her more because of it though, much to her chagrin, and smiles in irony at the thought that there might not even _be_ a game, the bait merely something to occupy his mind and suggest that he stop trying to nitpick her taste and personality as being predictable, cold, and vindictive.

"—the only unpredictable thing you ever did was fall in love with your brother, I bet." He tries one day, just to tug at her strings and make it clear that _Me, let go of all your weird little quirks? It'll never happen, love._

She doesn't budge, and he notes to himself to try again another day when she's more disconcerted.

He's sprawled side-ways at his couch when that certain day falls, head hanging off the edge so that his vision of her bustling to and fro in his apartment is upside down.

Honest to God, that woman was always moving.

Always busy and hectic and restless that looking at her was enough to make him feel exhausted.

Izaya rolls his eyes. She always found something to do, somehow.

"Is the reason you're always so preoccupied is so you won't have to talk to me?"

"Well. You do know me best, after all."

"That's cold, Namie-san." He laments, puffing his cheeks in slight offense, and once again reminds himself to try another day when she wasn't so collected.

The third day, and he's sitting at his desk, actually working on his clients' requests for once instead of killing time walking around Ikebukuro, browsing internet forums, mind-screwing people, or hanging upside-down from his couch and watching the news.

Texting strangers into suicide pacts or creating ploys to kidnap young girls and taking humor in breaking down their self-esteem and/or self-value fell under the 'mind-screwing' category, while devising a plan to burn the city in turmoil and violence both fell under 'killing time walking around Ikebukuro' and a whole 'nother section entirely.

His childishness and immaturity is placed on hold today, and is instead replaced with slight irritation and the need to amuse himself, for something to break his tedious afternoon before he dies of boredom.

He sees her walk in a second later after this thought, much to his convenience, and his lips quirk upwards into a quick, effortless smile. He breaks away from the computer screen, leaning down against his leather chair, and takes the mug of coffee from her hand before she can place it on his desk.

He brings the rim of the cup towards his lips, tasting the bitter coffee before gulping most of the contents down. Izaya hands the mug back to his assistant, licking the top of his lip. He welcomes the surge of caffeine that enters his bloodstream with a satisfied smile, placing down his elbow on top of his desk and resting his chin at his knuckles, eyes flickering up to her face.

"Need something, Namie-san?"

She is quiet, and her expression is cool and calm as she brings her down-cast eyes to meet his. It's not in shame or embarrassment, he knows, it's simply because she's deep in thought. For her brother. Again and again and again. And again. And againagainagainagain.

She's wearing that exact same face he sees at least five times a day, with that exact same voice, the one he can spot from a multitude of others and is as familiar as the back of his own hand.

"I see you've stopped working." Her voice is crisp and clean. He smothers his laughter simply because he knows where this conversation is already going before she even utters the magic words, and smiles once again because he knows that she prepared her speech before saying it to him. Sometimes she does, sometimes she doesn't. But she beats around the bush when she does, an attempt at being polite and not overly demanding. Like how she was most of the times.

"My feelings won't get hurt if you ask for your brother." He fails at trying to restrain his laugh this time, and the sound tumbles out of his throat, earning him a glare from the woman.

He smirks as he pushes away from the desk and pulls his laptop closer, fingers already hovering above the keys. He's typed it so much he thinks he can type it with a severed hand, a blindfold, and inside a burning building during the middle of an earthquake without misspelling the boy's name.

"What, is it the 3rd time today?"

"The first." She hisses.

"Aah." He mumbles, still smiling, but lets the sensitive topic go for once.

It lasts for only about a minute before he starts talking again. "What would you do if I told you that Seiji Yagiri just jumped off a building?"

"_What_—"

"Or that Mika Harima is pregnant with his child. Would you—"

He glances up just in time to see a hand coming at his face, but is immediately surprised to find that it hadn't struck him... yet... and instead cups his cheek. He would've almost described her touch to be soft and gentle if he didn't know any better.

"Izaya-san, your birthday is today." Namie reminds him out of nowhere. He blinks.

"Oh." He didn't even remember. "Should we celebrate?"

"Mhmm, it depends on you. But I've got a gift—do you remember that game I was talking about before?"

A flash of excitement flickers through his eyes. "The rules?" He demands simply.

"You can't talk for a day. You can't say anything—no comments, no jokes, no small talks, no _nothing_. I'm tired of hearing your voice, to put it simply, and for once, I want you to be as silent as the dead."

Izaya instantly frowns. "That doesn't sound like much of a birthday gift."

"You didn't let me finish." Namie berates, before leveling her gaze on him. Her eyes harden for just a quick second. "There's a but..."

"Really, now?" A grin crawls its way up to his face, almost effortlessly. "What's the _but?_"

"You stay quiet for a day... and I do anything you want." She finishes with a huff. He blinks in astonishment, one second passing... two seconds passing... before the toothy grin instantly disappears, and a moment later, he's wearing a devilish smirk and his eyes are glinting.

Namie doesn't fail to notice this certain ominous expression, and cuts him off before he could even open his mouth.

"But nothing bad," She warns. "Or perverted. Or anything that's illegal and harmful to my health. And I refuse to take part in your sick mind-games."

His expression crumbles away almost instantly. "That's no fun." He scowls. "You might as well just do something horrible and _cook _for me."

"My cooking is not—!" Namie pauses. "If that's what you want, then fine."

"Actually, Namie-san. That's _not_ what I want." He says suddenly, changing his mind in under a second. A mischievous little smile flits up to his face, and though it is nothing like its devilish counterpart, it has a right of making the hair on the back of her neck stand up in its own way.

"I want you to stop calling Seiji—"

Her expression immediately contorts at his words and she's ready to make a protest, but this time, he cuts her off.

"Relax. It's only for a day. And as I recall, limiting one's self from calling a person for a day isn't bad. It's good, if you think about it, because it's annoying as hell. But it's not perverted. Or illegal. Or a mind-game. It's not harmful to your health either—your sanity, maybe, but at least you'll still be _healthy_."

"I wouldn't be healthy if I was insane." She grits out.

"Au contraire. There's a lot of insane people out there that are perfectly healthy."

"You mean people like you?"

"Fine, people like me." He relents, smiling in good humor. "And second—"

"There_ are _no seconds."

"You didn't make any rule about that. So _and second_," He continues. "I want... a birthday kiss." The smile that decorates his face is charming and unabashed, but it is not frightening, nor does it unnerve her. It's a smaller price to pay than his first wish, that was for sure.

Namie merely stares at her employer for a moment, before conceding. "Fine. X marks the spot." She says, and her choice of words make him blink.

She walks around his desk, opening one of the drawers and fishing out a silver duct tape that he never even knew was there. Before he can even register what's happening, he sees her tear a piece of tape with her teeth.

"What are you—" He starts, and is shortly answered when the tape is immediately slapped unto his lips. It surprises him, but he's even more astonished when she suddenly grabs his face and pulls him forward, kissing his covered mouth.

Izaya blinks once again, more than a little puzzled. It dawns on him, suddenly, and he growls against the tape enclosed tightly around his lips, though Namie cuts him off for the last time, taking pleasure in getting the last word.

"You'll get the rest once your birthday is over." She says coolly, and grabs a permanent marker off the desk-top-table, popping its lid off and drawing an 'X' unto his tape-covered lips. "Remember, X marks the spot." She smiles cleverly, settling the marker's top back into its place. "But if you even utter one word, the game's off."

Izaya stares at the woman in front of him in wonder. He'd give her an impressed smirk if he could.

-X-

"Well, at least somebody finally found a way to shut your damn mouth." Shizuo says later, when he finds the man walking around the streets of Ikebukuro, either to further his plans on setting the city into turmoil, or just to genuinely kill time.

Izaya doesn't say anything back, not even a taunt or a jeer, simply because well—he can't.

It'd ruin the game.

* * *

This wasn't supposed to be a birthday fic for Izaya lol **his birthday was just the perfect excuse I could find**. (x

Click that little button down below to **give me your thoughts, please**. C:


End file.
